


Phantom Touch

by Anatui



Series: Fever Dream [2]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Coming In Pants, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Heartbeats, Jogress Bonds, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: For a long few minutes, Ken lay, clutching his phone over his heart, struggling to rein in his emotions but to no avail. The weight of Daisuke's fist settled over his chest, connecting them even more, but obviously, the connection was already too powerful.How long had he been able to feel Daisuke's touch? How long had this been happening before he'dnoticed?And he could only assume it worked both ways, which left the very important follow-up question:HadDaisukerealized their predicament?ORKen enjoys a series of phone conversations with Daisuke...
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya
Series: Fever Dream [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073231
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27
Collections: Ana Writes Semi-Angsty Porn 2020, Ana's 2020 Writing Challenge, Daiken Discord Server





	Phantom Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hartbeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hartbeat/gifts).



> Happy Christmas <3

Daisuke called him every night like clockwork so they could spend the final hours of their evenings curled up in their respective beds, just listening to each other's voices.

This, of course, had become increasingly difficult since the _dreams_ had started.

Ken hadn't gotten much sleep lately, and staying up long past his bedtime to listen to Daisuke's voice, to feel grounded by his warmth even through the phone, only added to his sleeping problems. But Ken would rather not sleep at all than have inappropriate dreams about his best friend.

It didn't hit him that the dreams had expanded into his waking life until that first phone call, until he felt Daisuke's palm flat against his chest—when he was all the way in Odaiba.

"I was just thinking about how good you played that day," Daisuke said on the other end of the phone, his words slow and lazy and heavy with sleep.

Ken's chest felt oddly heavy, though. "Daisuke…" And it felt heavier still from the admiration lacing his best friend's voice.

"You move like a swan."

For a long moment, Ken struggled to breathe under the weight of Daisuke's words and the mass on his chest before he finally managed to say, "Why a swan?"

"Because you're so graceful! And pretty."

Ken spluttered, embarrassment growing and fluttering in his chest.

He had no idea what Daisuke was talking about. He hadn't played in their 1v1 any better than normal, and Daisuke was practically as good as he was now. Although, now that he thought about it, Daisuke had lost pretty quickly in the second half of their game that day.

Ken wetted his lips, choosing his words slowly and carefully. "I'm not a swan."

Something hard and firm and hot drummed over Ken's heart, and he froze. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but unease settled in his stomach and something else entirely coiled inside his belly.

When Daisuke spoke again, he was breathless: "It was an analogy."

Ken tried to laugh, tried to tease, but there was nothing funny about the way his heart was beating out of control, harder and faster and painful as what could only be the touch of a hand—of _Daisuke's_ hand, he was sure of it—flattened over his heart.

He had to stifle a gasp as fingers trailed down the middle of his abdomen, ghosting over his sternum and his stomach, past his belly button, but he knew he couldn't hide the way the touch affected him. He panted, his strangled breath spanning across his chest, permeating the thin material of his pajama top.

The fingers paused at the edge of his underwear, teasing along the hemline till Ken was whimpering, but it only got worse as a finger dipped under the hem, then back out, then doing it again and again. Shivers shot down his spine, and his fingers clenched in his sheets as he struggled to figure out how to handle this, struggled to even think.

"Ken?" Daisuke's voice was a low intoxicating rumble. "You there?"

"Yes," he squeaked in response, but no amount of clearing his throat or focusing seemed to improve his voice—he was too overwhelmed by the mounting arousal to speak properly. "I'm here."

Daisuke's voice trembled as he said, "I wish we could get together during the week too." And all too quickly, the hand playing at the hem of Ken's underwear slid away, trailing back up, up, up. "Ken?"

"I do too," he whispered, desperately trying not to whine at the loss of Daisuke's teasing fingers.

Daisuke moaned his name.

Ken quivered, arousal and shame surging throughout his body simultaneously. There was too much going on, too many emotions boiling in his belly, but he knew desire shouldn't have been among them.

"Sorry, Daisuke," he stuttered, desperate to stop his body from reacting, "um, I have to go."

He hung up before Daisuke could even respond.

For a long few minutes, Ken lay, clutching his phone over his heart, struggling to rein in his emotions but to no avail. The weight of Daisuke's fist settled over his chest, connecting them even more, but obviously, the connection was already too powerful.

How long had he been able to feel Daisuke's touch? How long had this been happening before he'd _noticed_?

And he could only assume it worked both ways, which left the very important follow-up question:

Had _Daisuke_ realized their predicament?

Because how could Ken ever deal with the repercussions of this arousal if Daisuke could feel his every touch, if Daisuke _knew_ he was touching himself?

But he also couldn't ignore it.

Trembling, Ken stretched down and slipped his hand under the hem of his pajamas and inside the underwear beneath, and his fingers tentatively wrapped around himself, hoping and praying Daisuke couldn't feel the touch and desperately begging for him to notice.

All too quickly, Daisuke's hand slid into place.

Daisuke was clumsy but determined, and his addition spurred on Ken's own arousal. He gasped for breath, tears stinging his eyes, and tightened his grip, sped up—he needed to feel the release, needed to feel what it was like to come at Daisuke's hand.

Strangely enough, he felt Daisuke's first, the burst of pleasure only teasing his own arousal, drawing it out until he couldn't feel Daisuke's hand anymore. Only then did he let himself fall over the edge, whimpering and moaning at the overwhelming strength of the orgasm.

He'd never felt that before, never come so hard his entire body was limp and spent and broken, each heaving breath making his lungs burn.

Ken didn't know what to expect with Daisuke's phone call the next night, but he knew he couldn't afford a repeat of the previous night. He wouldn't be able to handle feeling Daisuke's hands on him again, not while hearing Daisuke's voice tremble with arousal.

He curled up in bed early, his phone atop the mattress next to him, waiting and wondering.

But he'd long since forgotten what _normal_ was like.

Maybe an hour before Daisuke's usual call time, an unwarranted arousal began to twist and coil in his abdomen, sending surprised shivers down his spine.

Ken was already panting by the time he noticed Daisuke's rough finger pads curling around his heart, then tracing over his skin down to his hard arousal.

A low moan tore from his lips at the feel of Daisuke's calloused fingers wrapping around him.

He couldn't resist.

His slender fingers slid into his underwear and joined the rough ghost hand holding him, and Ken matched his time, matched his rhythm, as he traced his own fingers over his chest, his abdomen, his hips, and up over his throat and jaw to play with his parted lips. 

Arousal pulsed through him like an ocean wave, crashing hard against his groin. Just like the night before, he could _feel_ Daisuke's release.

But Ken wasn't ready yet, and to his surprise, Daisuke didn't stop, didn't even slow down.

Ken whimpered and whined, bucking into his own hand, wishing it really were Daisuke's hands on him, not some confusing phantom touch.

This time, when Daisuke came, he _almost_ dragged Ken over the edge with him.

Ken wasn't sure how long he lay there, trying to convince his body he didn't need to come, that he wasn't overwhelmingly aroused, that he didn't want to use his connection to Daisuke to get off.

By the time Daisuke's phone call came, he was dazed and flushed with his need to orgasm, even if it had faded—and Daisuke noticed.

 _Of course_ Daisuke noticed.

Daisuke always noticed when something was bothering him, so he definitely noticed when Ken could barely speak, when his words slurred and his sentences rambled on.

"I'm just…exhausted, you know?" he tried to explain, but he wasn't sure how convincing he was. "You're right—I probably shouldn't talk to you for too long tonight."

There was a long moment where Daisuke didn't speak, but Ken could feel his frustration emanating through the phone, but it took him completely off-guard when Daisuke leaned into that frustration and growled out his response: "Well, if that's what you think is best."

Ken whimpered as his arousal made a powerful surging comeback at Daisuke's tone. It was too strong too quickly, and his previously flagging erection was painfully hard, practically yelling at him for postponing his pleasure.

For a moment, the line was silent.

Then, Daisuke, voice rough and throaty, asked, "Ken? You okay?"

Another whimper fell from his lips, stifled behind his hand but there, and he pulled his hand away to answer. "Yes," he said into the mouthpiece, breathless, the word falling from his tongue like he was begging Daisuke for more.

Maybe he was. Maybe that's all he wanted, all he needed.

"Ken." Daisuke said his name like a prayer, like it would grant him luck and good fortune, his every wish and desire. "Ken, Ken, Ken…"

And it sent arousal thrumming through his body like an electric shock, like it was too powerful to contain and needed to get out, to break free, to shout his desire for Daisuke from the rooftops of Tamachi.

"Daisuke?" he gasped.

He practically convulsed with need, desperate for Daisuke's hands on him, and too soon, his wish was granted: a hand closed around him through his pajamas and underwear, palming him slowly, gently. There was hesitation in the touch, but it was more than enough for Ken, and he moaned loudly, not bothering to stifle the sound, unable to even consider it.

The phone made a loud clunk, breaking him out of his stupor, and Ken inhaled sharply.

What the hell was he doing?

This was Daisuke—his best friend, his partner, his nakama—and here Ken was practically throwing himself at him _over the phone_.

Shame flowed through him, and he pulled the phone back and hung up before Daisuke said anything else, before Daisuke mentioned how incredibly forward and depraved and _vulgar_ he was.

But even without Daisuke on the phone with him, Ken was greedy, and even though he knew Daisuke would feel him touching himself, he couldn't resist.

He traced his fingers down from his fast-beating heart and inside his underwear to grab hold of himself finally. It wasn't difficult to imagine his hand was Daisuke's, to pretend he wasn't the one touching, caressing, soft at first, ghosting over the skin before he finally swallowed down any remaining hesitation.

His grip tightened, but his strokes were slow and gentle, trying to draw it out instead of come immediately.

It felt like a long time before Daisuke's calloused fingers joined him, tight and hard and desperate, pumping him rougher and faster and overwhelming him until he had to rock into the motion, moaning and gasping with each stroke.

This time, he finished first, and he lay there, holding himself inside his now wet and sticky underwear, riding out the high as Daisuke finished and another wave of ecstasy shook him to the core.

When Ken showered a second time that evening before actually going to bed, his parents didn't comment on it.

And when he had bags under his eyes the following morning, since he didn't get any sleep from the overwhelming panic, the realization that Daisuke had probably figured out the latest manifestation in the Jogress connection, his parents didn't comment on that either.

He spent much of the school day checking the clock, expecting an email the next time he looked at his phone, wondering how long it would take for Daisuke to contact him and say it'd be better if they weren't friends anymore.

At the end of the school day, he didn't have any emails or phone calls—not even a quick note about how excited Daisuke was to come over this weekend.

Which, of course, meant Daisuke was going to take the high road. Instead of informing Ken he didn't want to be friends anymore, he'd simply fade out of his life, pull back and let them be nothing more than teammates when the Digital World required them.

Daisuke wouldn't spend the night this weekend.

Yet again, Ken was alone.

Only, Daisuke _did_ show up that afternoon.

He brought his backpack, even carried in the snacks Ken's mother made for them, and he crawled into Ken's bed and changed Ken's entire world.

That weekend changed _everything_.

Daisuke touched him, caressed him, stroked him until he came—and all without ever laying a hand on him. Even forbade him from touching himself no matter how much he wanted to.

And then he did it again and again and again until neither of them could anymore.

Until the weekend was over and they couldn't hole up in Ken's bedroom anymore and Daisuke had to go back to Odaiba.

Ken didn't want him to leave, didn't want to separate now that they knew how good it felt for them to be _together_ , for them to feel the depth of the word _Jogress_ and truly merge into one. But anticipation coiled in Ken's stomach at the thought of curling up in his bed and listening to Daisuke's voice over the phone, knowing that Daisuke would feel it every time Ken thought about him and touched himself.

When that first phone call came, Ken's body was already pulsing with anticipation and arousal, and he couldn't tell whether it was his or Daisuke's or both.

"Hey," Daisuke said, breathless, as soon as Ken answered.

Ken's nervous laughter rang out, echoing around him in the loft bed. "Hello there."

"How was soccer club?"

Apparently Daisuke wanted to take things slow, to ease into this, but Ken's heart throbbed, beating in tune with his desire.

Ken didn't want slow. He'd waited all day—through classes, through club duties, through homework and dinner and family time. Now that the evening had wound down to just him and Daisuke, that's all he wanted.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he lay his palm flat over his heart, recalling the way Daisuke had held his own hand there and explained how much he wanted him.

"Daisuke…" he murmured.

On the other end of the line, Daisuke cleared his throat. "That boring, huh?" He was trying to hide it, to cover it, but the squeak in his voice was unmistakable.

Ken's fingers slowly circled the speeding _thump thump_ inside his chest, letting that beat lead for him.

A little sigh fell from his lips, and he let his eyes flutter shut as he unhooked the buttons over his chest to caress the skin underneath. His body trembled at the feel of his own delicate fingers tracing over his heart, and he let out a soft hum of pleasure when rough fingertips joined his own.

He moaned, calling Daisuke's name again, eyes rolling back at the feel of their hands curling together over his heart.

"Ken," Daisuke rumbled through the phone, drawing the name out. The weight of his hand pressed tighter against Ken's chest, forcing his heart to beat harder, faster, worryingly irregular if he didn't know Daisuke's pulsated to the same rhythm.

"Yes?"

Through the phone, Daisuke heaved, his breath crackling in Ken's ear, and his voice was low and rough and intoxicating. "I missed you today."

It was only their first full day away from each other after the weekend, but Ken knew exactly what he meant, had missed him all day too. He wished they could've spent more time in his bed, their legs twisted together, their mouths sealed as one, their hearts on display.

Ken whimpered, quivering with need just from Daisuke's powerful hand holding his heart. "Missed you too," he murmured, his voice shaking just as much. "Wish you were here."

Without hesitation, Daisuke's calloused palm rocked against his heart, then dragged down his sternum, following the valley down his middle, shooting goosebumps over his skin. Ken tore at the rest of the buttons of his pajama top, desperate to open himself up even if it didn't matter much to Daisuke.

"Only a few days," Ken promised, panting with each word, "and in the meantime…"

Daisuke's laughter was low and husky, intensifying as his fingers stilled just below Ken's belly button. "In the meantime _what_?"

Ken wetted his lips and let his own fingers slide down to meet where Daisuke's had stopped. "In the meantime, we have this," he murmured. "I can _feel_ you, and you can feel me. Even if we're not in the same place, we can still _be together_. We can still become one…"

His words trailed off, but he didn't have to speak.

Daisuke's fingers ghosted under his elastic waistband, tracing over his sensitive skin, dragging a moan from Ken's lips.

Finally, he wrapped his hot fingers around Ken, and quaking, rocking into his grip, Ken whined into the phone. He wanted to join him, to add to the intensity, to help Daisuke along too, but he flattened his hand over his heart instead, felt the pounding of their unified heartbeats as it pulsed throughout his body, letting the electric rhythm guide him deeper and deeper into Daisuke's phantom embrace.

Through the phone, Daisuke rambled, mumbling soft words of encouragement, his voice breaking as he drew them closer and closer to the precipice.

Ken worried his lip, wished he could kiss Daisuke now, wished he didn't have to _wait_ till Friday night again.

But at least he didn't have to wait for _this_.

At least he didn't have to wait to feel Daisuke's touch, to feel their hearts throb in sync, to hear Daisuke's voice roughened with arousal and panting his name. At least he didn't have to wait for Daisuke to tell him over and over again how beautiful and breathtaking and wonderful he was. At least he didn't have to wait and wonder if Daisuke really meant that.

And when he came, he didn't have to wait and wish Daisuke was the one causing him such pleasure. He didn't have to hope Daisuke would feel that good too because he knew, he felt the euphoria all over again when Daisuke came moments later. And he didn't have to wonder how much better this would be with Daisuke there.

Because he was there.

He was holding Ken as best he could, running his hands up and down his torso, massaging his aching body to draw out his ecstasy. He was there with Ken, leading him through the darkness with the frantic beat of their joined hearts.

Ken could feel the moment Daisuke lay his hand atop his heart, panting into the phone, desperately trying to catch his breath so he could speak again, and Ken dropped his own hand right there with him, feeling their fingers ghost together, entwining.

He didn't have to worry because Daisuke was there, like he always would be.


End file.
